Danny Starr - Go Down Payments

Florrie gasped with terror as she felt Walter's hands slide between her thighs, moving slowly between the satin columns of her closed legs. She could feel his fingers relentlessly moving higher, forcing her thighs wider apart, climbing aggressively beneath the elastic band of her panties so they could titillate the softly curling wisps of black moss covering her quaking cunt.

"Please," Florrie begged. "Oh Walter, please don't hurt me!"

She was quailing with undisguised horror, backing away from him as if his fingers had fangs and were about to bite. She rubbed her satin buttocks into the softness of the bed in hopeless retreat from the roughness of his moving hand. "You just stop moving around, cousin," he whispered, but when she continued shivering and backing away, he reached out and smacked her face. Tears flooded from her reddened eyes.

She lay back, numb, terrified, unable to fight him, tears streaking down her stained cheeks, trying to blank her mind out. But she was painfully aware of Walter's hands forcefully on the sensitive inner area of her upper thighs. But there was no way she could fight him off. Her fear of this man's brutality and the way he would hurt her if she disobeyed him, terrified her. To remain still was to be raped. To fight, was to be beaten, then raped. She was terrified of making Walter any angrier, now realizing how much of the beast he still had inside him. She had thought the years might mellow him, but her cousin had become even more brutal. She could sense his animal anger, and she knew it was directed at her. She stared, unseeing, at the swollen, mottled cock which he now rested on her right thigh. He was daring her to shut her legs as he slowly began moving it up toward her twitching cunt. God! How Florrie wished she could black out, wanting to lose any feeling before he began his wicked assault.

A trembling blast of terror shot through Florrie as Walter's hand pressed lightly against her nylon-encased pubis, trying to tickle its way through her pelvic fleece. Trembling spasms moved through her frightened body as she felt him bunch the nylon material in a fist, and then an overpowering blanket of uncontrollable terror flooded her body as her cousin, with a quick, single, powerful tug, tore the sheer veil of protective fabric from between her shivering thighs. His movement was swift and brutal, breaking down that final barrier of possible defense against his uncontrolled, eager hunger.

"Walter… " her dry throat gasped, her voice suddenly cracking as she felt hysteria overtake her.

She began screaming uncontrollably, thrashing her arms around, not trying to hit, not caring if she did hit. And then she abruptly stopped, her breath catching achingly in her throat. Walter, ignoring her movements, had pushed his hard cock forward, and now she felt the first fearful sensations of his hard, rubbery, yielding glans as it lightly pressed against the quivering lips of her hair-fringed cunt. An icy shudder of additional terror ran through her. This simply could not be happening to her. It couldn't.

Her eyes opened wide, focusing on his body, and she was able to clearly see what was happening. The thick, throbbing hardness of his palpitating, swollen prick was poised at the soft entrance to her tender, helpless vaginal interior. It was so rigid, so burningly hard, it looked terrifyingly obscene.

The dresser mirror, across the room, threw back an erotic image of what was happening, letting her see how she looked to him. Naked, almost flat on her back, her thighs wide apart under this man's anxious, purple-headed, flexing cock, she could see him staring into the depths of her, as if seeing all the way inside her.

The blood in her arteries felt cold as she watched him guide the swollen, thick, red-shafted, desire-stiffened, bulky length of heavy cock toward the small, quaking center between her inner scalloped labia. And then, without a word, or any kind of hesitation, he lunged forward, first cocking his hips, then driving forward into the tight, dry depths of her unprepared vagina. The pressure was too much, stretching her while no moistness washed her interior, and then the lunging cock was moving into her with unbelievable speed, burying itself in her depths as far as it was able to go.

"Yaaaaaaaggggghhhh!" she screamed, as the pain washed over her.

Helpless to fight him, she screeched as her long, slender thighs kicked out futilely on either side of his body. For one trembling instant, Florrie was certain his knifing cock was going to cut her in half. Even if she had been wet and ready, her cunt had been totally unprepared for his length and breadth. Her dead husband had possessed a relatively small cock, and she had believed all men were built equally small. The massive truncheon Walter had forced into her had stretched her interior as never before. He held the thick baton locked inside her soft, enfolding membranes, thrilling to the fact that he was inside Cousin Florrie, at last, after all these years. He thrilled to the wild sensation of feeling his heavy, virile prick buried in the lovely woman's heated temple, feeling the way her cunt walls twitched, as if attempting to resist him. Little by little his hard cock began backsliding until only the swollen knob remained locked inside. His hands slid under the cheeks of her egg-shaped asscheeks, and he dug his fingers into the firm, resilient flesh, took a deep breath, and crammed his cock forward, gasping and groaning wickedly, forcing his long, swollen dork into the dark, teeming pinkness of Florrie's tender pussy, thrilling to the way it continued gripping him and preventing him from going any deeper.

"Stop!" she screamed. "Oh God… God… Walter, it hurts so much. God!"

She wailed and yelled, but he seemed not to hear her as she writhed piteously beneath him in a vain attempt to escape his skewer. But the lancing member remained firmly entrenched inside her.

Florrie, looking in the tilted dresser mirror, felt the full shock of the humiliating, licentious position in which he now had her. Her delicate, intimate depths were filled beyond belief by the massive thickness of her wicked cousin's swollen cock. To think he might have shoved this monstrosity into her fifteen years earlier, had she given in to him, instead of her now-deceased husband. God! To have to take this huge log inside her for fifteen years… The bizarre thought of her cunt having to be filled with his massive truncheon all this time seemed to inflame her already tortured brain, and she realized she was totally helpless, completely pinned by this evil man.

Rape was a humiliating experience. Why couldn't he have been a little less overpowering. She would have given into him with only token resistance had he been a bit more understanding. This attack of his was something she felt she would never be able to live down. It was an obscene assault on her flesh, robbing her of any respect she might have had for him, but worse, removing her own self-respect, as well. After all, she had come here with the idea of seducing him. The end result seemed to be the same, even if she wasn't as willing as she thought she might have been. To think she had leaped from the so-called frying pan into the fire by coming to this man for help. Yes, she had stumbled into this horrible den of sexual iniquity all by herself, with no help from anyone else. And now, as she felt his thick cock pump in and out of her, she felt more depressed and alone than ever. More and more self-loathing seemed to push its way into her body each time his marble-solid cock pumped into her. She could feel the way it flexed inside her, pressing against her dry, resisting interior, ravishing her pussy all the more. There was no way to stop him, nor was there any way to assuage him. All she could do was look in the mirror, and watch the coarse attack on her body continue.